TITLE: No Quarter Given

AUTHOR: Lex, lex@bitchenvy.com

RATING: NC-17. Adult with a capital 'A'. Torture, explicit borderline non-consensual sexual activity, voyeurism, adult language. In short, all the good stuff. <EG>

DISTRIBUTION: Everyone is welcome to it, as long as my name stays attached and I am notified as to its whereabouts. I get a rather pathetic charge out of seeing my work on random web sites. ;->

SYNOPSIS: A grudging respect is borne for the Slayer as Spike watches Angelus torture her. And then he makes a decision to help her, although not precisely in the way she would have wanted. (Angelus/Buffy) (Spike/Buffy)

WARNING: This is not, I repeat, NOT a happy smutty story. There is violence, torture, and also rough sex. Don't read this if you are under eighteen or overly sensitive to such things.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This little bit of mayhem is dedicated the *other* member of the Mutual Admiration Society, Laure Alexander, for her continued encouragement (read: incessant nagging :-), and help. Hey Laure -- a little SpikeSmut for you. And, as always, thanks goes to my Evil Twin, just because I love her to death.

FEEDBACK: Please. It is ALWAYS welcomed at lex@bitchenvy.com.

The cigarette tip glowed orange in the darkness of night as Spike took one last drag and stubbed it out. Turning around, he looked back into the house. Through the window he could barely make out the occupants of the room. There stood Angelus, beautiful face twisted in a wicked grin, a bound Slayer sitting in front of him.

Spike sighed. It looked like Buffy's ninth life was almost up. It was nearly two o'clock in the morning, and Angelus had been tormenting her for hours. Moving closer, he edged silently towards the room, not wanting to alert Angelus to his presence unnecessarily. His sire's angry words carried all too clearly to his ears.

"Buffy, Buffy, Buffy. You know, you really aren't any fun to torture. No sobbing, no whimpering. Just those godawful tears rolling down your face, and those huge eyes begging your beloved to stop hurting you."

Almost on cue, Buffy's eyes snapped shut.

Angelus grinned. "No quarter, eh love?"

Slowly, hoarsely, she spoke. "You've got me, Angel. I'm bound, tied to a chair, just waiting for you to kill me. You've won. So end it."

Shaking his head violently, Angelus touched her cheek. "And waste that beautiful body? I think not. Oh no, my love, I have much bigger plans for you. But first, first you suffer."

Spike stopped outside the door. He could see the Slayer, hands tied behind her back, legs tied to the chair. Her mouth was not gagged, but from the blood trickling from it, he surmised that she must have pissed Angelus off. Her face was badly bruised, and more blood flowed from what appeared to be a nasty cut on her scalp.

When Angelus stepped forward, Spike could see a large knife glinting in his hand. Buffy's eyes widened as she caught sight of the weapon.

"What, you're going to carve me up now? *Real* brave of you, Angel. Real fucking manly."

Angelus tossed his head back, roaring with laughter. "Even on the verge of excruciating pain, you still manage to have that attitude. I can't tell you how happy that makes me. It will be all that much more fun to break you."

She shrugged, wincing at the pain the movement caused. "I don't think so, sweetheart. You can hit me, you can cut me, you can kill me, but you won't break me. You've tried before, baby doll. No dice. Maybe you're not as good at this as you thought you were."

Her sly goading hit the mark. Throwing the knife down, he backhanded her viciously across the face.

Spike's mouth split in an unwilling smile. //Damn, but she's good.//

Buffy allowed her head to jerk with the slap, minimizing the damage to her already bruised face. Withdrawing his hand, Angelus raised it to his face. Noting the blood staining the back of it, he stuck out his tongue, licking away the remains.

"Ahh, love, you still taste sweet."

Spike's eyebrows hit his hairline. //*Still*? So, Slayer, you've let Angel have some of that delicious blood? *That* wasn't really a good idea, now was it? And just when was that, I wonder?//

Buffy snorted. "Every girl is allowed one majorly bad judgement call, isn't she?"

Angelus raised an eyebrow. "I'd be nicer to me if I were you." He crouched down next to her, invading her personal space.

"Go. Fuck. Yourself."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Such naughty language from such an innocent looking mouth. Of course, only I know how innocent that mouth is NOT, right?"

She stared at him, a hint of a smirk crossing her face.


She winked at him.

"Whore!" he bellowed as he leapt to his feet. "Bitch! Slut!"

A humorless laugh shook Buffy's shoulders. "Can't you think of anything more creative to call me?"

Spike closed his eyes. //Eh, Slayer, maybe it's not the best fucking idea to mock him. You are tied up, after all.//

Enraged, Angelus hit her again, this time with a closed fist. The impact of the punch sent her flying, her chair toppling over. She hit the ground, all the air fleeing her lungs in a rush.

"I don't want to hurt you like this, Buffy."

"Liar," she wheezed.

"Well, that's true. I do want to hurt you. It's an addiction for me."

Buffy glared up at him. "I'm honored. Really."

Bending over, Angelus picked up the chair, setting back on the floor. "Don't say things like that to me. I get very jealous when I think of another man touching you."

"You don't want me -- you've made it blatantly obvious that all you want is Drusilla. I guess there really is no accounting for taste."

He snickered. "She's just a momentary diversion. She really can't compare to you, my love. No woman can, curse you."

"So why are you fucking her?"

"To piss Spike off. I love to get a rise out of him, and banging his wacko goddess is the best way to do it. Of course, I figured that out years ago, but he used to be less receptive to it. I guess it was all those years without me -- it's lessened his self-control. I really must do something about that."

Outside, Spike's face changed, and his fists clenched with the desire to go in there and rip his sire apart. //Fucking bastard. Bloody fucking prick. So goddamn condescending.// At that moment, Spike made a decision. A decision that involved freeing the Slayer, and thereby raising Angelus' ire. Of course, fucking the Slayer would piss Angelus off even more. Especially if he were made to watch.

Continuing on his diatribe, Angelus paced in front of her. "What next, I wonder? What can I do to you now?"

Buffy attempted to look bored.

His eyes lit on a divan in the corner. "Now that's perfect."

She followed his gaze, and saw the velvet flecked divan. She closed her eyes. What he had planned next was crystal clear in her mind.

Kneeling in front of her, he untied her legs from the chair and picked her up in his arms. For a second, she closed her eyes, trying to demand that her body not feel anything as he pressed himself against her. Her mind KNEW that he wasn't Angel, but her body just wouldn't get the message. All it knew was that Angel's body was pressed up against her, hard arms pressing her to a muscled chest.

Summoning up her nerve, she managed to speak. "You gonna untie me now?"

"I don't think so, love. I'm not generally a stupid man."

She let out a chuckle. His eyes narrowed.

Buffy landed on the divan, her arms caught painfully behind her. "Goddamnit, Angel, let me go."

"Nope. I always wanted to see just how good those Slayer healing capabilities are." With that as poor warning, he slugged her in the midsection, cracking several ribs on her left side.

Buffy's entire body arched from the agony, a low animal moan escaping her mouth. Quickly, she drew her legs up, guarding her wounded side from another assault.

Spike winced in sympathy, reflexively rubbing his own ribs.

"Did that hurt, my love?"

Gritting her teeth, she raised bloodshot eyes to meet his. "You must be getting soft in your old age."

"Soft? I think not, lover. In fact, I think I'll show you how hard I am."

Before Spike's interested gaze, Angelus yanked her legs apart, wedging a knee between her upper thighs. Her tiny skirt aided him, conveniently riding up, exposing her underwear to his gaze.

"Now what do we have here? Cotton? What happened to those lovely silk numbers you used to wear?"

Tauntingly, she said, "My new lover likes the natural look."

Angelus snarled, reaching a hand down to put pressure on her wounded side. "If I find out that you've not been faithful, precious, I'll beat you so badly you'll wish you were dead."

She sucked in a pained breath. "I already wish I was dead."

"Oh, come on, you'll enjoy this. Who are you kidding? Certainly not me."

With that, he wedged a hand into her panties, searching for the telltale wetness. When he encountered it, he grinned, a Cheshire Cat grin.

"Now who's the liar? You want me. And I have the proof." He withdrew his hand and licked his fingers clean.

She shook her head, refuting his claim. "My body still thinks you're Angel. But I know the truth. You may fuck me, but it won't really be me. Angel is the only man I'll ever be with."

Angelus snorted. "Yeah. Whatever. You just keep telling yourself that as you're squeezing me with your orgasm."

Leaning forward, he ripped her underwear off her, tearing the soft cotton. She hissed at him, moving her hips away from him, trying to evade him. But she was seriously hampered by her lack of mobility, and eventually he managed to squirm over her, pinning her slight form to the divan.

Game face apparent, he spread apart her delicate inner lips and rammed into her. Her body arched again, the old pressure on her wounded ribs and the new burning pain of his brutal entry combining to torment her already hyperactive nerves.

Whimpering, she tried to draw back from him, to deny him access to her body, but it was too late. He was too deep inside of her, thrusting too powerfully.

Buffy shifted, trying to find a vantage point from which to endure his pounding. She was in no real pain, and the reality of this compared to the abuse she might have received made her smile wryly. //How like a man to be ruled by his dick.//

From the doorway, Spike grinned evilly. //Almost the perfect time...wait for it...wait for it...//

Angelus was pumping harder and faster into her, overcome with the sensations of being inside his obsession once again. Closer and closer he came to orgasm, forcing himself further into her body. Abruptly, all his muscles bunched and his fingers dug into Buffy's hips, dragging her to him, a receptacle for his lust.

It was at that moment, when Angelus was about to explode into orgasm, that Spike struck. Literally.

Armed with a convenient piece of wood from outside, Spike bashed his sire in the head, knocking him unconscious. Limp, Angelus sagged onto Buffy, causing her to yelp as his weight bore down on her injured side.

Quickly, Spike yanked him off of her, tossing him to the ground and trussing him like a Thanksgiving turkey. He dragged Angelus across the room and propped him up against the far wall, giving the older man a clear view of the room.

Meanwhile, Buffy slammed her legs shut, protecting her sensitive inner flesh from Spike's gaze.

Hands outstretched, he approached her. "Now Slayer, don't get your panties in a bunch. Oh, that's right, you're not wearing any."

She glared at him. "I saw you watching, you sick bastard. What the fuck do you want?"

"It seems my sire was right -- your vocabulary *does* diminish when you're brassed off."

Her smile was disconcertingly charming. "I'm sorry." Spike felt himself begin to melt before the power of those wide eyes. But then she ruined it by saying, "Now if you aren't going to kill me, untie me so I can get the Hell out of here before Daddy Dearest over there gets up."

Spike shook his head. "If you'll just listen to me for one bloody minute, I can give you your options."

She looked at him.

"Actually, your option."

"Thought so."

"Don't look so smug."

"Could we quit with the idle chitchat please?"

"Will you SHUT UP!"

With an audible snap, she shut her mouth, cutting off a lengthy tirade.

"Thank you so FUCKING much, Slayer. As I was saying, from the way he treated you, I imagine you'd like to get back at the bastard. Am I right?"

Slowly, she nodded. "What do you have in mind?"

Spike moved closer to her. "Well, Mr. Universe over there has been fucking Drusilla on a regular basis. I'm bloody tired of it, and I'd like to get back at him."

Buffy's eyes widened as she suddenly understood Spike's plan. "So you wanna fuck me while he's forced to watch, is that it?"

"See, I always knew you were smarter than they gave you credit for being."

She snorted. "Thanks. I think."

"So will you?"

"Let you fuck me?"


"You think it will really piss him off?"

"You know him as well as I do. What do *you* think?"

"I think you had better get naked. Pronto. But with one slight modification."

Spike had his shirt off as the words were leaving her mouth. "Like what?"

"Like I get to fuck you, not the other way around. It will serve two purposes. One, it will not further injure my ribs --"

"--I'm really sorry about that, Slayer. I didn't see it coming."

Buffy was amazed at the sincere concern radiating from Spike. "Why Spike, I think you like me."

Grinning ruefully, he continued to strip. "Against my better judgement, Slayer, against my better judgement."

She continued her sentence. " -- and two, it will mess him up that much more to know that I want it, that I'm the aggressor."

He winked at her. "I like the way you think, Slayer."

"Would it be possible to untie me? It would work so much better that way."

"Do you promise not to attack me?"

"Sure. Any attacking done will be entirely pleasurable," she said with a wicked smile.

Naked, Spike stalked over to Buffy, reaching out to release her bonds. Slowly, carefully, he traced the black and blue bruise spreading across her face. "He should be staked for marring this beauty."

She closed her eyes, unable to believe the tenderness of Spike's touch. "Why are you doing this, Spike? You're ruthless, I've seen you rip people apart with your bare hands."

"They are sheep, Slayer. Hors d'oeuvres in the great cocktail party that is life. But you are different. Not one of them. You're more like us then them."

Buffy nodded her head, acknowledging the truth of his words. She was a predator, a killer, like them. She did it all for the good of humanity, but she was not human, not entirely. That was why she knew that unless she found a way to return Angel's soul, she would be alone forever. He was her match, her other half. Only he understood what it was like to be a predator with a conscience.

The act she was about to participate in was only a means to an end. There was nothing she wouldn't do to get her Angel back. And enraging Angelus, perhaps allowing Angel to re-take control of the body, was as good a plan as any.

Spike understood; his heart was bruised and bleeding like her own. Which was why she was willing to do this, knowing that Spike was feeling the same pain she was, the lack of his other half.

Taking a deep breath, she nodded and reached for her demonic lover.


Angelus groaned, shifting against the wall. There was a throbbing pain threatening to split his head apart. He winced, unwilling to open his eyes, for fear the light would make things worse. He went to touch his head, but stopped when he realized his hand wasn't moving. He yanked harder, but to no avail.

His eyes snapped open.

He promptly closed them.

//This is *obviously* a dream, because Buffy is right this moment sitting naked, on top of Spike, and since the likelihood of that actually happening is slim to none, I'm dreaming.//

He opened them again. They were still there, cavorting on the divan. Then Angelus' memory returned, recalling being on top of Buffy when something slammed into the back of his skull. He swung his head around wildly, realizing for the first time that he was bound head and foot and propped up against the wall. Futher, he realized that his pants were down around his ankles, his cock rather shriveled and unimpressive looking.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE?" he growled, straining against his bonds.

Both blondes turned to look at him. Buffy smiled, a truly evil, wicked expression. "Well, hello lover. How's your head?"

Spike snickered. "Um, yeah, Angelus, sorry about that."

"Spike, you little SHIT, just wait and I'll FUCKING KILL YOU for this."

Buffy shook her head. "Don't think so, babe. I've found something to occupy Spike's time." Having said that, she trailed a hand down his chest, pinching his nipples, tracing the muscles evident on his stomach, working her way down until she was grasping his cock.

Angelus snarled at her, the sight of his unwilling goddess with her tiny hand overflowing with Spike's rampant erection enraging him.

"Buffy, so HELP ME, if you don't get off of him RIGHT THIS SECOND, I'm going to --"

" -- You're going to *what*? Hurt me? Been there, done that."

While Buffy verbally sparred with her ex, Spike concentrated on caressing any and all of her available body parts. He started with her breasts, stroking the soft pink nipples into taut hardness.

Angelus' eyes narrowed as he watched his childe make love to the Slayer. Right then and there, he vowed that they would be punished for this insolence. Spike would die; and Buffy would be beaten and broken until she would never think of leaving him again.

The lovers ignored him, concentrating instead on the lust running through their veins.

Buffy leaned down, caressing Spike's mouth with her own, her tongue slipping between his lips to stroke his tongue. Spike grasped the back of her head, angling her so that their mouths fit perfectly, the kiss going on and on until Buffy broke off, gasping. She smiled and traced his lips with a finger. "You make me forget I have to breathe." He grinned, a strange happiness reaching his eyes.

Moving down, she pressed kisses down his throat, paying careful attention to the area over his jugular. She nipped gently, his head pressing back into the divan, baring his neck to her. She licked that violently sensitive skin until Spike groaned, a hoarse cry erupting from his throat.

She pressed herself against him, licking a path down his chest, sucking and biting at his nipples, then his abs, then his waist.

In the corner, Angelus sat fuming. His blood was nearly boiling with rage. His rage increased exponentially as he saw his girlfriend take Spike's cock and give it an affectionate little lick.

"BUFFY!" he howled, pulling at his bound arms, trying to free himself.

"Mhmmm?" she mumbled with her mouth full.

Completely disbelieving, Angelus watched as she took Spike deep into her throat, causing the blonde vampire to mutter incoherently, his hands digging into the cushion underneath him.

Angelus was aghast. //Where ON EARTH did she learn that? And furthermore, why did she never do it to me?//

Spike began to thrash under his ministering angel, his muscles bunching as he thrust toward her, trying to be gentle, but finding himself overwhelmed by the sensation of her warm wet mouth enclosing his cock.

"Damn it, Slayer, I'm coming." He touched her cheek. "Move NOW."

Stubbornly, she shook her head, increasing the pressure.

And then he came, moaning, biting his lip bloody, jerking hips forcing himself deeper into the haven of her mouth. Her eyes closed as she quickly swallowed, holding on to him even as he drained himself within her.

Spike laid there, arm draped over his eyes, trying to calm his rampaging emotions back into some semblance of control. Then he sat up, catching Buffy underneath her arms and drawing her up his body. She covered him like a warm vanilla scented blanket. He looked at the top of her head as she snuggled against his chest. "Slayer?"


"Where did you learn that?"

"Not from him," she indicated Angelus with a jerk of her head.

Angelus frowned. //Was the whore insinuating that he was a bad lover?//

Spike persisted. "Where, then?"

"Did you enjoy it?" She tried to evade the topic, but Spike would not be led off course.


"Okay, okay," she sighed. "I learned it from Willow, who learned it from the Internet."

Spike began to laugh, his shoulders shaking with the force of his laughter. "The INTERNET?!? Is there anything you can't learn off the bloody Internet?"

Angelus felt slightly mollified. At least she hadn't been practicing on other men. Well, other men besides Spike.

"Oh, shut up," she said in mock anger, "You were loving it a minute ago."

"Love, any time you feel like doing that, feel free to punch me, knock my legs out from underneath me, and go to work. I won't mind in the least."

"You're just a slut, is that it?"

"Especially when it comes to blondes, bottle or otherwise," he said with a leer, indicating the dark hair covering her mons.

Buffy slugged him gently in the chest. "I hate to be the one to point this out to you, but you're not exactly a natural blonde either, Mr. Clairol."

"Could we PLEASE quit with the inane chitchat!" Angelus roared from the corner. He was beginning to shift uncomfortably on the floor, the sight of Buffy's face as she sucked Spike to orgasm arousing him more than he would have liked to admit. But with his current pantless state, his ...enthusiasm was more than evident.

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "Awwww...poor little Angel...well, actually, 'little' was never a word I associated with you, getting all turned on by his ex fucking another man."

She looked down at Spike. "Now what were you promising to do to me?"

Spike took the hint. "Whatever you feel like, love. I'm up for anything."

"I'll say."

Angelus ground his teeth together, the witty banter aggravating him almost more than the sex.

"You *could* fuck me like a madman."

"Slayer...I don't want to hurt your side..." Spike said, momentarily balking at the idea of putting any weight on her injuries.

She pouted.

Spike shook his head, looking stern. "Hush, and I'll take care of you, pet." Slowly, he traced a path down her front, pinching her already painfully erect nipples. Buffy gasped, swaying into his touch. She was so hot, her soaking wet center scalding the skin of his stomach.

Continuing down, he delved into the dark hair covering her softest flesh, parting the folds. She was already wet, moisture spreading out onto her inner thighs. Whimpering, she spread her thighs further apart, inviting him in.

"Oh, please..." she whispered, her breath catching in anticipation.

Spike traced her swollen lips, fingers running round and round, slipping a little in the sleek wetness.

Slack jawed, Angelus watched. He couldn't see Spike's fingers, but he could hear the soft moans erupting from Buffy's throat. He knew what she felt like, what it was like to touch her unbelievably hot wetness, and what it was like to slide inside her and feel her orgasm around him. Involuntarily, Angelus closed his eyes, the memories overcoming him.

Buffy bucked her hips toward Spike, dying for the sweet pressure on her clit, where she needed it the most. "Spiiiiiike," she breathed, arching closer and closer to her lover.

Obligingly, Spike slid one finger slightly inside her, testing her responsiveness. She was so tight, clenching desperately around that finger. Adding another finger, he stretched her, feeling the slight flutters that made her spasm around the invading digits. Her clit stood out from the concealing folds, erect, almost painfully hard, begging for his touch.

He took a moment to stare at her, as his fingers began a slight thrusting motion, sliding a tiny bit into her, and a tiny bit out, concentrating his touch on the sensitive opening of her vagina.

Caught up in the agonizing pleasure, Buffy lolled her head back, eyes heavy lidded with ecstasy. From the corner of one of her half-closed eyes, she saw her ex-lover watching her avidly, his tongue nearly hanging from his open mouth, his hips making almost imperceptible thrusting motions. //Oh, yeah...this is getting to him...although, not in the way I had anticipa...oooohhhh, Spiiiiike, where did you learn.....ummmmm....how to do that....//

Spike tormented the Slayer, bringing her ever nearer to orgasm, but refusing to apply the pressure that would send her flying into the chasm.

Forcing her eyes open, marshalling her thoughts, she stared down at him. "Now, Spike, now."

He grinned then, a quick baring of teeth, and pressed on her clit with his thumb.

Buffy screamed as the pleasure welled and crested over her, arching and shaking and clenching around those skilled fingers.

From the corner, Angelus groaned and clamped his eyes shut to block out the beauty of her surrendering to orgasm.

Drained, Buffy slumped to Spike's chest, sucking in great gusts of air, trying to regain her equilibrium. Spike shifted her, making sure she came into contact with his already huge erection. As he prodded her, she raised her head. "Ready, willing, and able, eh *William*?"

He frowned. "Don't call me William."

"Why not?"

"Because it's a bloody pissant name, and I loathe it."

"And you think I like *Buffy*?"

"You mean that's not a nickname?"

"Nope. Buffy Amanda Summers."

"What's Buffy short for?"

"*That* secret is going to my grave."


Again, both blondes turned to Angelus. "WHAT???" Spike blurted out as Buffy screeched, "ANGEL!! Shut UP!!!"

Angelus smirked.

"I told you that in SECRECY," she wailed.

Meanwhile, Spike was trying to comprehend the horror of the name. "Buffilyn? But *why*?"

Buffy struggled against Spike's imprisoning arms. "I don't want to talk about it."

Abruptly, she turned and glared at Angelus. "And I wouldn't talk, Mr. Proinsias Angelus O'Grady."

Spike nearly developed whiplash trying to see the expression on Angelus' face. "Proinsias?" he crowed, his shoulders beginning to jerk with laughter.

"Fuck off," Angelus growled. "I'm Irish. I was surrounded by hicks my entire mortal life."

"*Very* manly. I bet you were extremely popular on the playground with the other boys." Spike guffawed.

Angelus just snarled.

While Spike was busy taunting Angelus, Buffy had other things on her mind. She sat up, straddling him. *That* got Spike's attention.


"Shut up and let me fuck you."

She lifted up, then lowered herself onto his cock. They both gasped as she stretched around him, enveloping him in her wet warmth. Buffy held herself on him, allowing her body to get used to the sensation of being filled again. Spike grabbed her hips, trying to make her move on him, to have some of that glorious friction that he craved, but she was in charge of the game and they both knew it.

"You just lay there, honey, and I'll do all the work."

With that, she started to rock back and forth, riding him, and then sliding up, and dropping herself hard. Spike moaned, a deep gutteral sound. "Jesus H. Christ, Slayer..."

Angelus clenched his teeth, watching his obsession beginning to bounce merrily up and down on his childe's cock. As he watched her perform, his own cock swelled and swelled, until it was so engorged it was painful. He shifted against the wall, but there was no comfort to be had, no way to free himself, no way to provide the friction against his member that he so desperately needed.

Buffy's breasts swayed with the rhythm of her movements. The swollen, taut nipples drew Spike's attention like a beacon. He tugged on them, intrigued by their texture. She ground herself down harder in response, her clit crushing against his pubic bone. Buffy was whimpering almost continually as she impaled herself on his cock, taking him as deeply within her as she could.

Grabbing her hips, he helped her slam down onto him, forcing her to speed up. Dimly, she realized she would have bruises in the exact shape of Spike's fingers on her hips and ass in the morning, so powerful was his grip.

Panting hard, she obeyed, riding him, frenzied, oblivious to everything but her impending orgasm. Spike bucked up, driving himself further within her, mesmerized by the sight of her moist curls meeting his own.

Suddenly, the blood lust, so long contained, rose within him, choking off his good intentions. He no longer had the strength to resist the call of her blood, the undiluted power that lurked beneath her veins. He gripped her to him with one hand on her lower back and one on her shoulder, and rolled her over, by some miracle staying within her. Buffy squeaked as his weight bore down on her, but her ribs had already started to heal and the pain was minimal. The surprise was still evident in her gaze as he began to thrust powerfully into her, goring her swollen wetness. Instinctively, she clamped her legs around him, rising up to meet him. As he slammed down violently, she screamed, her mind splintering, her body exploding in the grasp of consuming ecstasy.

In her pleasure, she clamped down on his cock, gripping him tightly. The added pressure was enough to do him in. He threw his head back as his body began to shudder, heralding the onslaught.

Buffy opened her eyes, needing to see him caught up in orgasm. What she saw was a fully vamped out Spike, eyes tightly closed, shaking as he came. Suddenly, his eyes opened, meeting her shocked gaze for the first time. His eyes were yellow, but she could still see *him* within their depths. She saw the question lurking there, and then she knew what it was that he wanted.

Unthinkingly, she bared her neck to him, all the while ignoring her Slayer Sense which was screaming a protest at her. Growling softly, he lunged down, pinning her to the divan. Gently, he licked the skin covering the vein, and bit down. As her blood flowed into him, he felt the power race through him.

Buffy gasped, feeling the blood drain from her veins to nourish her enemy. She could feel Spike still within her, still thrusting as he took his pleasure from the feeding. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend, if even for a moment, that it was Angel who held her, Angel who was inside of her, Angel who was feeding from her. And for a moment, Spike imagined his dark goddess in his arms, clutching him to her.

For several long moments, they remained caught up in their mutual fantasies. Eventually, Spike regained enough consciousness to tear himself away from the Slayer, away from the temptation of her blood. Carefully, he touched the wounds he had inflicted, oddly ashamed of himself.

Buffy was having none of that. "Look at me, Spike."

Mulishly, he avoided her eyes. "Now what, Slayer?"

Abruptly, she caught his head in her superhuman grip. "I *said*, look at me."

He met her gaze, his face entirely human again. "Slayer...I-I'm sorry for hurting you. You've already been hurt enough this evening."

Buffy's mouth dropped open in shock. //All right, who kidnapped Spike and replaced him with a pod person -- okay, a pod vampire?// "Um...that's okay, Spike, really. The last bit, the blood...I, um, kind of enjoy it." Having said that, she blushed profusely.

"You always did," said Angelus, voice hoarse with restrained moans.

Turning her head, Buffy looked at her former lover, the sire of the man -- the _vampire_ -- within her now. Angelus sat there, pants around his ankles, his immense cock painfully erect. Any other man would have looked absurd in that position, but he only looked incredibly fuckable. She closed her eyes to avoid his faintly mocking gaze, but she couldn't help the way her inner muscles clamped around Spike, still half-hard within her. Her plan hadn't worked. He was still Angelus, not her precious Angel.

Struck with some unidentifiable urge to stand up for the woman in his arms, Spike grinned nastily. "Yeah, Angelus, you may remember, but it looks as if you aren't going to get any first hand experience again any time soon." He winked at his sire. "If you know what I mean."

Buffy shook her head. //Testosterone alert! Back up, his ego's expanding.// "I hate to break up all this male posturing, heartwarming as it is, but I have to get going. I have work to do."

Spike sighed. //Looks like the party's over.// He sat up, drawing her with him. "Try not to kill too many of my minions, will you?"

"Is it my fault that your minions are detestably stupid?"

"No, but I would prefer that you not point out my inadequacies as a leader, thank you very much."

"You may be inadequate there, but you have so VERY many other useful talents," she said with a wicked grin.

"I try, pet, I do so try."

Buffy snickered as she pushed him off of her, vaulting off of the divan. She grabbed her clothes, still mostly in one piece, although definitely worse for the wear. Pulling on her skirt, she looked at Angelus, who was watching her intently. "What are you going to do with him? We just can't very well leave him tied up forever. Well, I mean, we could, but what would be the fun in that?"

"Go home, Slayer. I'll give you a fifteen minute delay to get out of here, and then I'll release him."

"I *will* kill you for this, Spike, have no doubt," Angelus said mildly, "and as for you, my beautiful, lying, cheating whore, you will sorely regret this little escapade. For eternity, if I have my say."

His implied threat was all too clear to Buffy. She shook her head as she drew on her shirt. "You won't kill him, lover. You're too smart for that. Not only would your precious Drusilla go apeshit, but I don't think the minions would take too kindly to the death of another Master, especially at your hands."

Angelus looked at her, eyebrow raised.

"But then again, you did kill your own sire over me, so why would it be any different when you slaughter your childe?" She went for his weak spot, just as he had taught her. "Any way you slice it, it's still all about me. And my guess is, the minions aren't too pleased with your obsession with the Slayer. I'm thinking the general consensus is that you're still in love with me. Makes you look weak. But it does wonders for my ego."

Snarling, her ex-honey lunged at her. She stepped out of his way, then changed her mind and kicked him in the ribs with the tip of her patent leather boot. He gasped, falling to his side, curling around himself.

"Hurts, don't it?"

Angelus looked up at her with pain glazed eyes.

She smiled sweetly. "Oh, and here's one for the road." She drew back her foot and let it fly again, this time into his crotch.

With the impact, Angelus screamed. Spike blanched in momentary male sympathy.

Buffy bent over, her face inches from the vampire whimpering at her feet. She stroked his cheek softly, lightly kissing his lips. "I'm done playing, lover. Don't come after me again unless you mean to finish it permanently."

She raised her head to see Spike where he sat on the divan. She stood up and strolled over to him.

"You're heartless, love. Vicious. Brutal. And I love it."

"You would."

"So, how about ditching the whole bloody save the world nonsense and joining me."

"What would Drusilla have to say about it?"

He looked pained. "She has Angelus over there, but since the bloody wanker is still in love with you, it might irk her just a little."

Reaching out, Buffy cupped her enemy's chin and tilted his head up. She looked down into his eyes, a bit surprised at the fondness she felt for him. Solemnly, she traced his lips with the tip of her finger. "You know that this can never happen again, Spike. Come tomorrow, I'm back to being the saviour of the world, and you go back to being my scourge."

Spike kissed the fingers pressed against his lips. "I know, pet. But it was fun while it lasted, eh?"

She said nothing, but lowered her lips to meet his. For a seemingly endless moment, their mouths made love, tongues dueling. Spike was the first to break it off, his palm cradling her cheek. "Get out of here, before you get hurt again." He swatted her on the ass.

With a wink, Buffy twirled around, and walked out of the room, stepping over her former lover, writhing in agony on the floor.

"Later, William," he heard her say from outside.

Spike chuckled, shaking his head.

"That's for sure, Buffilyn. That's for damn sure."